


'Tis the Season

by esteefee



Series: Fair Trade [15]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Earth, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spring is here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Tis the Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squidgie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/gifts).



> for his [Spring Fling Meme](http://squidgiepdx.livejournal.com/68403.html)!
> 
> [Podfic read by Wihluta](http://www.squidge.org/~esteefee/tis_xt3.mp3).

John felt the change when he put the tables and chairs out in the morning—not so much as a warmth in the air, but as an absence of bite, and he knew it meant just one thing. He sighed as he placed the last chair just so and then went inside and flipped the sign from ‘CLOSED’ to ‘COME ON IN.’ Stepping around back into the office, he turned on his computer, then pulled up his cranky old copy of TurboTax.  
  
 _God damn it._  
  
Four hours and six cups of coffee later he was elbow-deep in receipts and Excel line items when he lifted his head on his stiff neck and saw Rodney standing in the doorway, a cranky frown creasing his face.  
  
"Ahs tells me haven’t been out front once today."  
  
"Taxes," John said, voice clipped.   
  
"Oh, that." Rodney waved airly. "I let my tax accountant handle mine."  
  
"Well, goody for you." Some people had it easy.  
  
Rodney's frown grew deeper. "You mean to say you do the Café's taxes and your own every year?"  
  
John sighed and kicked back, rubbing his sore neck. "Don't have a lot of alternatives, Rodney."  
  
"Well." Rodney came around and did that thing, that miraculous thing with what felt like two fingers and a thumb that seemed to simultaneous reposition John's C4 vertebra and loosen all his spinal muscles at once.   
  
John sighed gratefully and forgave Rodney for being rich and a little spoiled, considering how willing he was to spoil John himself at the drop of a hat. "Thanks."  
  
"You need a chiropractor. But speaking of ridiculously obvious solutions—what if we threw your tax returns in with mine?"   
  
All that good fingerwork immediately went to waste as John stiffened up resentfully. "Rodney, I can't afford to pay some tax accountant five hundred bucks to do my taxes."  
  
"No, well, but—it's not like we aren't co-heading a household together, practically. Almost."   
  
John tilted his head back and met Rodney's blue beseeching look and felt weirdly guilty. It was true. They should maybe think of filing jointly at some point, somehow. Scary as the thought was. "Aw, buddy. You're a good guy. But my individual taxes are all mixed up with the Café's expenses and earnings, and that's got nothing to do with buying double the cat food—"  
  
Rodney sat on the desk to face him. "All right, I admit it—this is nothing but a transparent ploy to keep you from spending the next week of your life agonizing over pointlessly convoluted bureaucracy when you could be having meaningfully convoluted sex with your, um, genius boy toy."  
  
John couldn't help grinning. "Meaningfully convoluted?"  _Boy toy?_  
  
Rodney wet his lower lip. "Your hip aside, I'm sure we could contrive to create some very interesting geometric figures."  
  
The screen glowed mockingly at John with its spreadsheet and formulae that had been burning his eyeballs for the past few hours. Beneath his right elbow was a pile of faded yellow receipts, some of which were nearly illegible. What was his pride worth next to meaningfully convoluted sex acts with his genius boy toy, who was staring at him with a slight smile on his face, as if he already knew which way John would jump.  
  
Through the open door, John heard the front door open, bringing with it the smell of the outdoors and the promise of spring.  
  
"You know what? I think I'll take you up on that. Thanks," John said, and the papers rustled under his hand as he leaned up for a kiss.  
  
  
 _End._


End file.
